


Loyalty

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bunniverse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 18:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11538195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: After numerous failed relationships with others, two old elves decide to give love one more try.





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece to 'I Can Move Mountains'

"Do you ever sit still?"

Fingon flinched and stilled his movements immediately. "Sorry."

Erestor had been grinning, but now he furrowed his sweaty brow as he closed the door behind him. His cheek was smudged with dirt, and his gloves caked with mud. He pulled these off and dumped them on the tray where he now left his gardening boots as well. "For what?"

Fingon shrugged.

Slowly, Erestor approached. He lingered before Fingon for a moment, looming over him. "Mind if I sit with you?" Fingon shook his head, eyes cast down, hands squeezed together in his lap. Erestor eased down beside Fingon. "Both of us are wrecks, you know. At least my demons are chained beyond this world. Yours, I fear, are not, nor will they ever be. I ever find out who broke you, I am going to have choice words for them. Might have to break a few noses, too," he added, only half-jesting.

"Not caused by one person alone," mumbled Fingon.

"Fuck 'em," remarked Erestor. Fingon sighed. "Seriously. I ever find out who it was..." And he left it at that as he put an arm around Fingon. "I know. Easy for me to say.” He leaned in and kissed Fingon’s forehead. “Whatever it was, I thought it was cute."

"I was dancing," Fingon finally admitted.

"Ah... to what?" asked Erestor.

"Just... something I remembered from a long time ago. I could not even tell you the name of the song. I only heard it once."

"Can you hum a little of it for me?" asked Erestor.

Fingon dared to look up. He did not know what he expected - perhaps some sort of judgement, but all he saw was curiosity. "It was a little like..." And he hummed the chorus for Erestor.

Erestor closed his eyes, and a few bars in began to sing the words that went with the melody. "I know this one," he said. "I think the title of it is 'I can move mountains', but I would need to ask Galadriel if she remembers. But I know where we can find the music for it. What were you going to do with it?"

"Oh, nothing, really. I just liked it and I thought it would be a nice practice piece." Fingon worried his fingers for a moment before he added, "Thank you."

"Of course. Would you like me to make a copy of it for you? I should probably take a shower first, but I have the afternoon free."

“I thought you were planting things all day.”

“I will always make time for you.”

Fingon bowed his head. "Why are you so good to me?"

"What?" Erestor curled his fingers around Fingon's shoulder possessively and frowned. "Where did that come from?” 

Fingon shook his head. "Nothing. Nevermind." He turned away before he added, “I do not want you to settle.”

“What?” 

“You should… make sure you find someone that… make sure you find the right person. Not just me, because I am here and convenient and lonely and--” Words caught in Fingon’s throat, and he paused long enough for Erestor to interject.

“You know, I could say the same damned thing to you.” Erestor removed his hand from Fingon’s shoulder to wipe away his own tears. “You should find someone noble, and successful, and exciting, and… do you know how foolish we would be to do that?”

Fingon sniffled and fought back his emotions. “You know what our problem is? We are both so afraid of rejection. We would rather be miserable and alone than take another chance at getting our hearts broken.” He blinked rapidly, to no avail. “So much for being valiant and brave,” he self patronized.

“I love you.” Erestor stopped trying to dry his cheeks. “And that is not something I have said to many people. And I cannot promise you a happy ending, because I am no good at prophecy, and I fear at times that I am poor luck to those around me. I can, however, say with confidence, I have never been the one to end a romance. Everyone has always walked away from me - and perhaps with good reason. I often think that means I have little to give, but I am loyal, and I will never leave you.”

“I am stubborn,” said Fingon.

“As am I.” Erestor could not help but laugh. “My name literally means ‘stubborn and alone’.”

Fingon sighed. “I do not know if it was that or loyalty which prompted me to stay with Maedhros for as long as I did.”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” Erestor guessed.

Fingon sniffled again. “Eventually, though, I had enough.” He glanced at Erestor out of the corner of his eyes. “Always, the others left you?”

“From Fëanor to Glorfindel, and everyone in between.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I love you so much it hurts to be alone. I ache to see you, to touch your hand, to hear your voice, to breathe your scent, to simply be near you. But so, too, does it ache, to think we might part, that I might wake up alone, that a day might come that you would be but a dream to me.” Erestor finally looked at Fingon and said, “I am a coward, Fin. I always have been. I just manage to hide it well enough to get by.”

“I have never thought you to be a coward. I just think both of us have been hurt. Broken, as you put it. But are we beyond repair?” Fingon rubbed his face tiredly and recited, “And all the king’s horses and all the king’s men could not put him together again.”

“There is one spark of hope in what you say.”

“What is that?” questioned Fingon.

“You are the king, and kings can move mountains.”

“Was the king.”

“You will always be a king to me.”

“Well, then we have a problem,” mumbled Fingon. “I know you refused to be consort to Galadriel. If you believe me a king, I am sorry to report I have no authority nor do I hold lands with subjects in them, and regrettably it would seem that consort may well be the only title I might offer you.”

“So the story goes. She never gave me the choice, really -- I only said I would not be her consort, but she only wished me as her advisor, and that wounded me deeply. It was far easier to pretend she rejected me for the sort of lover she wanted than the fact she no longer wanted me as her lover at all.”

“Then there is hope for me.”

“There is hope for us.” Erestor lifted his fingers and touched his own mouth with them, as if keeping in words until he could find the ones he wanted to say. “I would be your slave, if that meant… being with you… being close to you…” He groaned and looked away. “I sound so desperate,” he apologized.

“I could end up being the next person who leaves you.”

“Or, maybe you end up being the first person who never does.”

“Those do not sound like the words of a coward.”

Erestor turned away. “Still a coward. Words are easy. Actions speak louder than words.” 

Fingon studied Erestor for a bit. “Give me your hand,” he suddenly said. Erestor reached out to him without hesitation. “Sorry, other hand,” he corrected. Erestor did as requested. Fingon rubbed the pads of his fingers along the band of gold that Erestor wore. “How long have Glorfindel and Faelion been married?”

“Over four years.” 

Fingon held up Erestor’s hand and kissed his knuckles. “I am taking this off,” he warned. Erestor nodded. After two failed attempts, Fingon kissed Erestor’s hand again before he stood up. “I will find a way to get that off,” he vowed before walking to the adjoining room.

“I have no doubt about that - I just hope that my finger will remain attached when you do,” Erestor called out.

“Valid concern considering my history as it pertains to removing unwanted bands of metal,” he shouted back. Fingon returned with a jar of lotion. “I am going to liberate you from this burden that you have continued to impose upon yourself. Do you know what this is?” he asked as he held up Erestor’s hand again.

“A wedding ring from a failed marriage that I should have given back.”

“No, this is your past. This is what keeps your chained there, away from your future. Four years has been long enough for you to grieve. Maybe you feel guilty, that something was your fault. Maybe you feel you must bide your time, and be there if things fail for them. Maybe you are just afraid to move on.” Fingon removed the lid from the jar and ran his fingers through the cream inside. “I could not succeed in breaking the bond that held Maedhros, but I will not fail with you.”

Erestor lifted his hand up towards Fingon. “Release me.”

Fingon rubbed the lotion onto Erestor’s finger, coating the area around the ring most of all. He twisted and pulled, easing the band back and forth. “Relax,” he advised when he felt Erestor tense, and a few seconds later, it slid off. He held it out to Erestor, but Erestor shook his head, and so Fingon set it aside on the table nearby. “How do you feel?”

Tears threatened to spill again, but Erestor’s voice remained even. “Alone,” he said. “Now I am forced to admit it, not to pretend.”

Gently, Fingon lifted a hand and drew his thumb beneath Erestor’s eyes to catch the teardrops. “You will never be alone. And I am going to stop being a fool first.” He moved his hand back behind Erestor’s neck and leaned down at the same time. As they kissed, Erestor reached up and put his hands upon Fingon’s shoulders. “I do want to get the music for that song, but I have other ideas for this afternoon,” he whispered.

“You can have the original,” murmured Erestor as he pulled Fingon toward him for another kiss.

“The original?” Fingon placed his hands on Erestor’s shoulders to keep them at a distance for a moment. “How do you have the original?”

Erestor cocked his head slightly to the side, his eyebrows following suit, as he cheekily answered, “I should have been clearer earlier. I wrote the song.”

 

Fingon narrowed his eyes, but smiled. “I heard it at the market, when the trees were still lit.”

“I used to sing at the produce stall to pass time. It was probably me you heard.”

“Sing to me,” Fingon requested as he closed his eyes. Erestor did so, and once Fingon was confident of the chorus he joined in. They seamlessly harmonized together, until Fingon broke off and laughed blissfully. “How can we doubt this? We toil with our damned reasoning, while our spirits sing with longing. Tell me, though, who did you write such a beautiful song for?”

“I wrote it just before Galadriel left.” Erestor frowned. “I wrote a lot of songs during that time; I thought the music would help.”

“But that song was not written for her.”

Erestor shook his head slowly. “I was lonely. She had not left yet, not physically, but she was already gone.”

“That song stayed with me for thousands upon thousands of years.” Fingon lowered himself down on the couch, straddling Erestor’s lap. He ran his hands through Erestor’s hair. “I think you wrote that song for me. Not me by name, but you were hurting. Wanting. Needing. I can hear all of that, the beauty, and the pain, and the longing.” He placed his hands on either side of Erestor’s face before kissing him once again. “I was drawn to your singing - to you. I should have stayed and found you, instead of rushing off to see Maedhros.”

“Everything happens for a reason.” Erestor reached up and twisted his finger around one of the adorned braids that swung before him. “I was not ready for you then.”

“And now?” Fingon held his breath.

“I just hope I do not disappoint you.”

Fingon bumped his nose against Erestor’s. “Shut up and kiss me,” he commanded.

“Of course, your majesty,” whispered Erestor, and he complied.


End file.
